


Prize Fighter

by katalicz



Series: Prompt fills [3]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, bandit is Protective, blitz always worms his way in, blitz and iq are mentioned but not really there, both are good, i suck at writing solely banjag, so this can be seen as banjag or blibanjag, thats it tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katalicz/pseuds/katalicz
Summary: To say Bandit isn't best pleased to be awoken at 2am on a Saturday morning would be an understatement.If it's because Jäger's in trouble - well, that's a different matter altogether.





	Prize Fighter

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a Bandit/Jager prompt for innocent!Jager and dangerous!Bandit and to be honest, I really struggled for a while thinking of something to write!  
> I hope it fulfils your desires, even through it's probably not what was expected at all.  
> (Also if you bear with me I'll probably come up with something better in a months time lmao, and when I'm more comfortable with the characters I'll be able to start attempting nsfws)  
> 

To say that Bandit isn’t best pleased to be awoken at 2am on a Saturday morning would be an understatement.

He hasn’t slept much in the past week, insomnia keeping him up for hours on end, working on his batteries and IQ’s prototypes and Jäger’s car. He always struggles when any of his teammates are away, and Blitz and IQ have been gone for the better part of a month, now. They should be on base resting, Bandit thinks with mild annoyance, but an emergency had cropped up in the US and as such the pair had been home for one night before being redeployed. Bandit understands how crucial their skillsets are, but he’d also seen how _exhausted_ they’d looked, and the knowledge that they won’t be performing at their best is enough to turn the wariness of being on his own into full-fledged anxiety. His teammates are his. He can’t let anything happen to them, but he can’t protect them when he’s not there, and it _worries_ him.

He expects the call that wakes him to be from Blitz; they had started the raid a few hours ago, and Blitz had promised to let him know when they were done. A glance at the phone turns the small spark of hope to one of irritation, because it’s _Jäger_.

Jäger had got back from his leave at home in Germany sixteen hours ago, and spent the day with Bandit babbling cheerfully about his stay and bickering about what to do next about the car. He’d left four hours ago with a handful of the others out to town to go on a bar crawl.

(Ash had spent a few minutes trying to persuade him to come, explaining their route (which she’d planned out with the same amount of care she formulates her battle strategies with), Jäger eagerly bouncing by her side, but eventually they’d accepted Bandit’s refusal before leaving with matching grins and a promise to let him know when they got back.)

That’s fine – Bandit has no problem with that, even though he’s a bit miffed that Jäger would abandon him so soon after returning. Jäger’s presence wears him down after being alone for so long; especially when his mouth runs at a hundred miles a minute, barely pausing for breath, and as such he's even more exhausted than he was before. Having Jäger back by his side has eased the tight knot of tension sat in his chest, though, enough that Bandit had been expecting to get a good five hours of sleep.

So Bandit isn’t exactly pleased to be hearing from Jäger, both for waking him up and also because it means one of three things: he's got himself lost, is uncomfortable with being surrounded by strangers, or has had enough of the others drinking and wants to come home early. It’s happened plenty of times before and Bandit is sure it’ll happen again – Jäger enjoys the idea of going out more than actually going out, and he always seems to forget that until it’s too late. Usually Blitz or Rook or Fuze are around to go and collect Jäger’s sorry ass, and Bandit gets to roll his eyes and tease him mercilessly when he returns, but all three of them are away and Bandit is, of course, the only one Jäger trusts available.

Bandit had anticipated this (because Jäger is nothing if not predictable) and spent ten minutes warning Jäger before he’d left that he wouldn’t be coming to collect him for anything, because Jäger is an adult, and is _perfectly_ capable of looking after himself. Clearly Jäger has forgotten that agreement, he thinks with growing annoyance. He’ll get his revenge in the morning.

He lets the phone ring through to voicemail, rolling over with the intentions of going back to sleep, but the phone rings again before he can do anything more than close his eyes.

Bandit scowls and reaches over to pick the phone up, tempted to put it onto silent or to switch it off, but the portion of his heart that Jäger has wormed his way into starts to worry that something’s _wrong_. Jäger had promised not to wake him, after all, and in the few years Bandit has known Jäger, he's never broken a promise before. He briefly berates himself for being so damn paranoid before answering. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to fall back to sleep now, anyway.

“Jäger, I swear to god, if this isn’t important-“ he growls out, but Jäger cuts him off with an unusually obnoxious laugh. Bandit pinches his brow and regrets answering – Jäger doesn’t drink, he knows, but the laugh sounds strangely like IQ’s drunken cackle.

“Hey, Elias, it’s Marius - I’m super sorry but I'm not going to be able to pick you up tonight,” Jäger says in English.

Bandit sits up straight, tiredness quickly draining away to be replaced with cold dread. Jäger _knows_ that Blitz is away – he had skyped Bandit the morning they’d left to bitch about Six and the fact that both Blitz and IQ are now due about a month of leave each. Besides, he never speaks English to them unless the other operators are around, and the only time Bandit's ever heard Jäger use any of their real names was when they thought Blitz was going to die.

Something is _definitely_ wrong.

He cautiously asks, “You know this is Bandit, yes?”

“Yeah, I know!” Jäger says. His voice is the slightest bit higher than it should be. “I’ve decided to stay out tonight; could you get Dominic to come and pick you up instead?”

Any hope that Jäger had made a genuine mistake dies and Bandit gets up, rooting around for his clothes, panic building in his chest. He's not stupid and the message is clear: _come and get me, I'm in trouble._

That Jäger hasn’t just _said_ that he needs help is what frightens him the most. Someone must be with him. The worry turns to a simmering anger, and he finishes pulling on his jeans before hurtling out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen as quickly as he can.

“I’m coming to get you,” Bandit says shortly, fishing through the shelf full of keys on the hunt for Smoke’s spare set – he’s away on the same mission as Blitz and doesn’t exactly need it, and it’s parked closest to the exit. Bandit will take any shortcuts he can, when Jäger is at stake. “Are you still where Ash said you would be?”

“That’s right, it’s number three,” Jäger replies, the relief barely palpable in his voice.

“Stay where you are, do _not_ leave, I'm coming,” Bandit says, grateful that he’d actually listened to Ash earlier – they were planning on going to five bars, and Jäger’s presumably in the third. He slips into the little red car and floors it.

“That’s great, thanks!” Jäger says. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. _Beeilung, bitte_.”

The line goes dead before Bandit can reply and he swears viciously, taking the gravel road as fast as he dares. _Please hurry up,_ Jäger had said, and Bandit intends to. He doesn’t know where the others are and why the hell they're not helping Jäger out, but they’ll pay for it. As will whoever has made Jäger so uncomfortable: Jäger is _his_ , and he won’t tolerate _anything_ happening to him.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive but he manages it in ten, the roads blessedly empty and the moon casting an eerie white glow over the hills. The town is a bit livelier, and it doesn’t take him long to find the bar and park on the double yellow lines down the street. He’s got his military ID with him if he gets questioned – he's _technically_ on official business, and he’d rather pay a fine than have to park ten minutes away and leave Jäger where he is for that much longer.

Providing that Jäger’s still there at all.

The fear that had started to calm down in the car as he’d planned his actions creeps back up inside him, making him nauseous. If Jäger isn’t there then he’s too late, and if anything happens, it’ll be his fault.

A quiet voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Blitz reminds him to _breath, idiot_ , so he does, trying his best to forget his worries – Jäger would have called again if he had moved, and Bandit won’t be any use to Jäger if he gets himself too worked up.

He shoulders his way into the club, flashing his ID at the bouncer, and is immediately hit by the blare of loud music and the smell of sweaty bodies. He can sense a headache coming on already, and he's not yet under the bright neon lights that the club undoubtedly has.

He steps through the dingy lobby into the main hub, and takes a second to think. Jäger doesn’t like busy places and the club is _packed –_ he’ll probably find him tucked away in a corner, or at the bar. At least he’ll have plenty of eyewitnesses should anything go down.

He pushes his way through the whirl of people, barely holding back his angry glare as he almost takes a glass of beer to the chest. He's got bigger things to worry about than some idiot’s clumsiness, and the woman looks rightfully apologetic and points him in the direction of the bar when he asks.

The bar is long and covers most of the back wall, attended to by harried looking waitresses and occupied by a full row of people. Bandit can't see an empty stool, and so turns his attention elsewhere – it’s not likely that Jäger will be at the bar itself, knowing him and his aversion to crowds.

There are a pair of round tables sat at either end of the bar, just out of the beams of the neon lights, and that is where he spots Jäger, leg jiggling frantically under the table and nursing a glass of dark liquid.

He’s surrounded by a trio of bulky men, and the hot anger in Bandit’s chest burns itself into a wildfire. Jäger’s shoulders are high with tension and Bandit can see the way his knuckles are white against his glass; how wide his eyes are as he nods along to what one of the men is saying. Jäger is not there by choice, and Bandit would be annoyed that Jäger hasn’t managed to deal with it himself if he didn’t know Jäger so well. Jäger could absolutely beat the men in a fight – he's deceptively strong and sly and just as quick as Bandit is, but he doesn’t have as much fire in his belly, doesn’t get the itch for bloodshed and war the way Bandit does. He wouldn’t start a fight with three men the size of Sledge in the middle of a nightclub.

It’s a good thing he has Bandit to do it for him.

It takes less than a minute for Bandit to get over there, back ramrod straight and an angry scowl on his face that he does his best to smooth over. Jäger spots him first and the relief on his face makes Bandit’s heart ache and his pulse thunder in his ears – he almost didn’t answer the phone, and Jäger would be suffering and it would be all Bandit’s fault.

Bandit won’t stand it. Jäger is _his_.

He barges his way through the last few people and comes to a halt at the table.

The trio of men look up at him. They all share the same mean look in their eyes, and Bandit is briefly reminded of his stint in Hanover – they have the same cruel, mirthful twists to their mouths, like they’re playing with a toy, like they’re biding their time. He holds back the urge to fight them where they sit; Jäger wouldn’t want him to cause a scene unless necessary, and that means playing it cool.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Marius,” Bandit says, voice as calm as he can make it, face still carefully emotionless. He's had a lot of experience wearing masks, and he’s distantly relieved to find that he hasn’t forgotten any of it.

Jäger stands up, stumbling slightly before tackling him in a hug. His fingers dig into Bandit’s shoulders and his chest is heaving more than it should be.

“They put something in my drink,” he whispers, breath hot on Bandit’s ear. The fire in Bandit’s veins burns furiously, and he clenches his fists to stop them trembling. “I didn’t know what to do, I can’t get rid of them.”

“Follow my lead,” Bandit says through gritted teeth, swallowing down the urge to push Jäger away and break the men’s spines. 

“ _Please_ don’t cause a scene here,” Jäger replies, before pulling away and smiling at the men. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and his hand is shaking where it rests on Bandit’s forearm. He hasn’t had the drugs in his system for too long, Bandit thinks gratefully – he’s seen this before, and if Jäger was in any imminent danger he wouldn’t be able to move, let alone speak clearly.  

“Who the fuck are _you?_ ” the man in the middle asks, standing up. He’s tall, but not as tall as Montagne and nowhere near as strong, and Bandit beats Montagne in hand-to-hand combat more often than not. Bandit could take the asshole down without breaking a sweat.

He fixes a cold smile to his face.

"Cedrik,” he says. He can feel the puzzled look Jäger is giving him, but he can’t risk the men remembering what Jäger had said earlier and his brother’s name is as good as any – it’s not the first time he’s used it.

“And what, pray tell, are you doing?” the man sneers cruelly, crossing his arms in what Bandit supposes is an imitation tactic.

“Visiting the area,” Bandit replies, as calmly as he can. “I have not seen Marius in a long time, I thought I would come and say hello.”

The man steps closer, and his cronies stand up, their chairs scraping against the painted concrete floor. Bandit narrows his eyes and starts to plan his moves – it's better to be safe than sorry, he knows, and he’s beginning to suspect he won’t be able to get Jäger away without a reaction.

 _Good_ , he thinks darkly to himself. It’ll give him the excuse to take them out, and they’ll deserve whatever hell he gives them.

“You’ve had your time,” the man sneers again. “Get going, we were in the middle of something.”

Jäger stiffens by Bandit’s side. “Actually, I think I might go and get some food with my friend, here. It’d be nice to catch up.”

“No,” says the man to the left, stepping closer. Bandit can almost smell the alcohol on his breath. He's slightly broader than the first, arms thick with muscle, and a very nasty look in his pale eyes. “We were getting along so well, and we didn’t even get to the _fun_ part,” he leers menacingly. His friends chuckle.

Bandit’s pulse thunders in his ears as he realises exactly what the man’s implying. His mask slips off and he snarls fiercely, drawing himself to his full height. The men step back slightly, the cowards, and Bandit distantly realises that his nails are biting hard enough into his palms that they’re throbbing. They _drugged Jäger’s drink_. He’s going to kill all three of them, he’s going to tear them to shreds-

Jäger’s fingers clench down hard on Bandit’s arm. “Ban, I want to go,” he murmurs, but Bandit barely hears him.

_How many others have they done this to?_

“Bandit _,_ _please_ ,"Jäger murmurs again, and this time the words register in Bandit’s ears.

“We’re leaving,” he growls. “Touch him and I’ll break your fucking wrists.”

The first man regains his composure the quickest. “Fucking krauts,” he snaps, and lunges forwards to try to take hold of Jäger’s arm.

Jäger flinches and staggers backwards with a quiet gasp, and Bandit sees red.

He shoves Jäger to the side, well out of the way, and punches the man squarely on the nose. There’s a satisfying crack and a shout of pain, barely audible over the pulsing music. He reels back but not quickly enough; Bandit takes hold of his meaty arm with a snarl, twisting it and locking the elbow straight before slamming his own elbow directly into the joint with enough force to snap it clean in two. The man’s eyes roll back in his head in a dead faint and he collapses in a heap on the ground. Bandit hears a faint gasp from Jäger’s direction and bares his teeth- what the men would have done to Jäger would be much, _much_ worse than this and they need to _pay_.

The other two leap forwards, faces twisted into ugly snarls of their own. Bandit wants to tear them to shreds, to make them suffer and shout and _bleed_ , to get vengeance for what they’ve threatened Jäger with, for anyone else they’ve ever touched-

He easily dodges the shorter man’s clumsy charge and spins aside to duck under the fist heading for his face. He sends a left hook of his own into the man’s abdomen, just below the sternum, and swings out of the way of the man’s head as he wheezes, curling around the blow. It’s winded him perfectly and done little to slow his momentum, which carries him straight into Bandit’s elbow as it comes crashing down onto the base of his skull and dropping him like a sack of stones.

Bandit’s blood roars in his ears as he turns on the last one, who has regained his footing and is watching with fearful eyes, hands raised in a bad attempt at a fighting stance.

Bandit takes one step forwards, blood in his sights and adrenaline singing in his veins, because the men _deserve_ it - who knows how many people they’ve done this to, he’ll make sure they _never_ do it again-

“Dominic, _please_ ,” Jäger says hysterically, eyes wide and wet, fingers coming back to grasp desperately at Bandit’s hand, and it’s just enough to snap Bandit out of his blind rage. There’s two bodies on the floor (they’ll be fine, he knows _exactly_ how to kill a man and how not to) and he’s slowly becoming aware of the small crowd gathering around them.

_They need to go._

They shove their way through the crowd towards the exit, Jäger stumbling and staggering until Bandit catches him around his waist and half carries him the rest of the way. There’s a bustle of people moving towards the corner but not enough that they’re moving against the current – the club is huge, and Bandit is dully grateful for the masses of people – they’ll be able to get out before too many notice what has happened, and the corner was dark enough that no one would have seen them clearly, anyway.

The air outside is cool but does little to sooth the adrenaline coursing through Bandit’s veins, the itch for bloodshed. _They had drugged Jäger, and Jäger is his, and they are going to pay-_ still repeats in his mind like a mantra and he wants to go back, wants to finish the job. He’d left one man standing and it _won’t do_.

“Ban, _please_ ,” Jäger breathes, and Bandit realises that he’s stopped just outside the club’s entrance, chest heaving and Jäger a heavy weight by his side. The bouncer is nowhere in sight.

“Stay here, I'm going to finish them,” he barks angrily, and Jäger’s grip on his arm becomes vicelike.

“We need to go, Dom, I want to go _home_ ,” Jäger says, voice high and fingers trembling, and the way his name falls so easily from Jäger’s mouth throws Bandit off guard. He turns to look at him properly and freezes.

There are tears in Jäger’s eyes and in streaks down his pale face, his pupils blown wide from whatever the bastards have given him. Jäger staggers as his knees start to buckle and Bandit slips an arm around his waist, the fight draining out of him because there are more important things at hand, like getting Jäger somewhere safe before he crashes.

"Come on, the car’s over here,” he says, sharper than he’d intended, and the way Jäger flinches makes his chest ache. He murmurs an apology and tightens his grip on Jäger’s waist.

Jäger nods quietly and drops his head onto Bandit’s shoulder. He’s heavy and his legs aren’t cooperating and they make it ten meters before Bandit pauses to scoop him up in his arms, ignoring the way Jäger flinches again at the sudden movement. He feels a bit sick, he realises as he carries Jäger the rest of the way – he almost hadn’t picked up the phone and he almost left Jäger to the whims of a group of _monsters_. The whole ordeal in the bar had taken less than seven minutes; he could easily have been too _late_.

It’s a struggle to get Jäger strapped into the car, but Bandit manages, murmuring quiet reassurances the entire time. He's not sure if they're for Jäger’s benefit or his own.

“I’m sorry,” Jäger slurs out as Bandit slides into the driver’s seat and slowly pulls away.

Bandit glances over at him. “It’s not your fault. You’ll be alright, I promise; it’ll wear off in a few hours.”

“You could’ve _killed_ them,” Jäger says, eyes wide and puffy. “I couldn’t let you _do_ that.”

Bandit closes his eyes in a brief flash of anger, because if he had (and _oh,_ how he still _wants_ to), they would have deserved it. Jäger would understand if his mind were clear, would feel the same way, but Bandit is all too familiar with the way drugs rattle people’s perceptions, and he has no idea how long the drug has been in Jäger’s system. He’s impressed Jäger is still conscious; he hasn’t seen anyone stay awake for more than twenty minutes after taking any, and it must be almost that for Jäger.

“I haven’t. If I wanted to kill them just then, they’d be dead,” he says shortly. Jäger’s lip wobbles slightly, and Bandit sighs, forcing himself to breath, to calm down. Jäger is safe. It’s over.

“They were going to hurt you, they could have done _anything_ they wanted to you,” he says, as gently as he can despite the dull anger still sitting like lead in his stomach “And you’re _mine_. They deserved everything they got.”

Jäger blinks at him for a second before closing his eyes. “Thought Blitz was yours,” he mumbles, head drooping. “Shouldn’t’ve gone out.”

Bandit frowns, confused. Of course, of all the things for Jäger to listen to out of that sentence, he chose _that_. “He is,"  Bandit says. “You are too. And IQ. And it’s _not_ your fault, the others shouldn’t have left you on your own.”

“You’re always _mean_ to me,” Jäger says miserably, eyes opening to peer at Bandit again.

Bandit arches an eyebrow at him in surprise. “You filled my entire sock draw with glitter,” he says in lieu of a proper answer, because he doesn’t really know how to respond.

“You put spiders in my bed. And confetti in my magpies.”

Bandit stares at him in bewilderment. “Yes?” he finally says, because he _has_ done that. Multiple times, for that matter, but he's also dyed Jäger clothes. And his hair. And encased his phone in jelly, and replaced all his music with whale sounds, and still glues his work tools to his bench on a regular basis. All of which are considerably worse than what Jäger’s accusing him of.

“You don’t do it to the others,” Jäger says in vague explanation.

Bandit considers that for a moment and sighs. “IQ threatened to castrate me if I pranked her anymore,” he says with a shrug. “And you were there when I put the confetti in Blitz’s shield. It gave him a panic attack and he didn’t sleep for three days, remember? So I leave him out of it so he doesn’t get hurt again - he doesn’t deserve it. And you _know_ I do it to everyone else, you _help_ me.”

Jäger blinks. “You _hate_ me,” he mumbles, and Bandit’s blood seems to turn to ice in his veins. He’d been expecting Jäger’s emotions to be all over the place, but he hadn’t expected _that_.

“Would I come and rescue you if I hated you?” Bandit asks quietly.

Jäger just shrugs pathetically.

Bandit frowns and swallows the guilt that rises in his throat like bile. There must be a _reason_ Jäger thinks that, he knows, but he has no idea what it _is_.

“I don’t hate you,” he says softly, eyes fixed on the road. “You’re a bitch and you really, _really_ piss me off sometimes, but I don’t hate you. The opposite, really.”

“Oh.” Jäger’s lip wobbles again and he looks so _sad_ when Bandit glances back at him that it makes his chest ache. He reaches out slowly and takes hold of Jäger’s cool hand. Jäger blinks at him with tired eyes but doesn’t pull it away.

 “Go to sleep,” Bandit murmurs. “I’ll watch your back. I’m glad you called me.”

“’m glad you understood,” Jäger slurs. He closes his eyes and squeezes weakly on Bandit’s hand. “Didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing,” Bandit says. “Go to sleep. I’ll call Doc, see what he advises we do. I _promise_ you, I don’t hate you.”

Jäger groans weakly but doesn’t respond further, and the rest of the trip is spent in silence, Bandit driving the slowest he’s ever managed and keeping an eye on Jäger the whole way back. He looks smaller than usual, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and dark circles under his eyes. He’ll be fine with time; he might not even remember what happened, Bandit knows. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Jäger wakes up just enough to clamber onto Bandit’s back when they arrive back at base, tucking his head into the crook of Bandit’s neck and sighing.

“’m sorry,” he says again. Bandit rolls his eyes fondly.

“It’s fine. Go back to sleep, you’re safe.”

He stumbles slightly as warm lips press to his throat. “Thanks,” Jäger mumbles. “Knew you’d come for me.”

Something warm flourishes in Bandit’s chest despite his confusion – _why would Jäger think Bandit hates him if he knew Bandit would come to the rescue?_

He writes it off as the drugs, but he’ll think about it later. He’s too tired to puzzle over it now; the lack of sleep and the adrenaline are taking their toll, and all he wants to do is pass out – preferably with Jäger by his side so he can watch over him.

“It’s okay. Want me to stay with you tonight?” he asks quietly.

Jäger huffs into his neck. “Please,” he mumbles, and something akin to relief fills Bandit’s chest.

Jäger falls asleep again as Bandit pushes his way into the kitchen. The base is silent and Bandit doesn’t encounter anyone as he makes his way up to their floor, but with almost half the base away on missions, some being out in town and the time being almost 03:00, he's not particularly surprised. He deposits Jäger onto his bed and receives a grumble for his trouble, but Jäger doesn’t wake up, and Bandit considers his mission a success.

(He wishes he’d been able to get the final man too, though. The urge to hurt still sits under his skin and itches, but it’ll go eventually. It always does.)

He goes back to his own room to get a bottle of water for Jäger in the morning and a packet of painkillers, then slips in to lie next to Jäger, not quite touching because the way Jäger had flinched earlier is still eating away at him – he won’t touch Jäger if Jäger doesn’t want to be touched, no matter how much Bandit needs it.

Jäger solves the problem by huffing quietly and tucking himself into Bandit’s side immediately, still asleep, legs tangling with Bandit’s own. Bandit will have bruised shins come morning; Jäger kicks like a horse, they had found out after their first mission, but that’s okay. Bandit has suffered worse.

He drops a text to Ash to let he know that Jäger’s home and they don’t need to worry about him (and gets a reply that explains that Jäger had got lost and nobody had been able to find him, so they’d assumed Bandit had already picked him up, which does a bit to calm the anger in his heart, because he had still half expected that they had just forgotten about Jäger completely. He’ll still berate them in the morning, preferably at the peak of their hangover headaches).

Next up is Doc, and he spends fifteen minutes explaining what had happened and soothing Doc’s immediate panic. Jäger will be fine, Doc confirms, with a bit of rest and fluids. He’ll be back soon (and a weight lifts off of Bandit’s chest because that means IQ and Blitz will be too, thank god) to check him over, and Bandit thanks him before yawning and hanging up.

Jäger snores gently and snuggles a bit closer. Bandit rolls his eyes.

He makes a final call to Blitz, who has IQ by his side, and they both look exhausted but pleased until he tells them what happened. IQ swears for two minutes straight and Blitz turns as pale as a sheet, and half an hour later (full of bitching about clubs, reassuring IQ that he hadn’t killed either of the men, agreeing with Blitz that they _absolutely_ would have deserved it, and wondering about what Jäger had meant with his ramblings) he finally hangs up.

It doesn’t take long for Bandit to calm down with Jäger pressed against his side, despite the way Jäger can’t seem to lay still for more than ten minutes and constantly touches him with ice cold feet.

It’s fine, though; Bandit is just grateful Jäger is okay. He doesn’t know what he’d have done if Ash had come back without him, if Jäger hadn’t made the call. Jäger is _his_ , and so are Blitz and IQ, and he won’t let anything hurt them if he can help it, he thinks vehemently as Jäger starts to snore.

He _won’t_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd so if there's any issues with it just let me know and I'll fix them! (also PLEASE lmk if I should put any warnings on this bc I was really unsure)  
> Still taking prompts and am working on a couple atm!  
> Thankyou all so so much for the support and kind words, they mean the world to me <3  
> cronuliscious.tumblr.com or katalicz.tumblr.com  
> <3


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